


From the second you smiled at me like that, I knew I was yours

by MsPeppernose



Series: Cold to the touch, hot on the inside [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete has spent the night in the bed of his neighbour, Mikey Way.</p><p>He thinks they had a great time, but the morning after doesn't go quite the way he was hoping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the second you smiled at me like that, I knew I was yours

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct follow on from [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2716898), so you should read that first. :)

Pete lets himself into his apartment. He's still wearing the hoody he borrowed from Mikey the night before, and he's still dragging his ratty blanket behind him. He dumps his blanket and makes himself a coffee, planning first on taking it black, and then adding a generous squeeze of vanilla syrup into it because it's relatively early and sugar is needed. Sugar makes everything better. He kicks his sneakers off and then settles on his sofa, tucking his feet up under him. He tries to focus, and make out some sort of plan for his Saturday and not think about last night, but that's really going to happen. 

His mind is full of last night, running through all the details from start to finish and how it had ended up so different to how it had started. It had been a very strange twelve hours; a struggle to sleep, a minor fire in his building, standing in his pyjamas in the street with his neighbours, spending the night in the bed of one neighbour in particular. Yeah, that bit had been pretty awesome.

Spending the night in Mikey's bed had felt unreal and he knows he'll get turned on again if he thinks about it too much. He remembers warm flesh, soft skin, angular hipbones, the pulse and shudder of Mikey coming undone. Pete smiles to himself because he hasn't had a night like that, well, not that he can remember, so it must have been a really long time. 

He stretches himself out on the sofa. He's tired but he did eventually get some sleep in Mikey's bed. Sleep had alluded Pete before the fire alarm had sounded, and he had assumed at one point that he'd be spending the whole night tossing and turning like he has done so many times in his life. But after the fire, after he had gone back with Mikey, it felt much easier. Sleep was always more likely for him post-orgasm, but he also felt a warm sense of contentment when Mikey's body pressed up against him and an arm snuck around his waist in the dark. He closed his eyes and felt that wonderful tug of drowsiness, and then off he drifted.

When he had woken up there was slivers of lights coming through the curtains so it seemed to be morning. It had taken him a moment to remember where he was. Mikey's apartment being exactly the same layout as his own didn't help, but it had very different stuff in it so it was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. When he stirred, he found the bed to be empty except for a mess of tangled blankets, no Mikey to be seen, but here was the noise of someone moving around coming from the living room. Pete wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. Was the bed empty because Mikey didn't want to be in it with him when Pete woke up, or was Pete doing his usual thing of reading into the situation too much?

He waited a few moments, staring at Mikey's ceiling, trying to figure out if he should wait and see if Mikey was going to return the bed, or if that ship had sailed and he should get up and look for him and maybe even go home.

He chose to get up, wanting to keep some self-preservation. In the case that Mikey had just wanted a hook up the night before, there was no point in Pete staying in bed with his fingers crossed that he was coming back to cuddle with him. He pulled on the pyjama pants he'd worn last night, the only clothes he really had with him. He put on Mikey's hoody too, the one he had borrowed. He figured it was okay to continue to borrow it and maybe better than walking out there half dressed.

He took a breath and stepped into living room. Mikey was standing over in the kitchen area and the sight of him made Pete bite his lip; he looked gorgeous, far too gorgeous for someone who just rolled out of bed. He was rocking that sleep-rumpled look again, and it looked even better on him now seeing as Pete knew he's the one who messed up Mikey's hair. He tried to hide a smile at that thought as he gingerly gave a little wave to Mikey.

"Morning."  
"Hey there."  
"I was just making coffee. You want?"  
"Yeah. Thanks." Pete sat on an arm chair beside the sofa, still unsure what to do. Morning-after-the-night-before conversations were usually awkward and he never got any better at them. Usually they involved either being clingy or running away and neither of those seem appropriate here.  
"Did I wake you?" Mikey asked.  
"Nah, I'm not a great sleeper anyway. Are you awake long?"  
"Not too long." Mikey turned away to face the coffee pot, his back to Pete. "Needed coffee."

"So. Last night..," he trailed off not sure what the end of the sentence should be. Last night was amazing? Last night blew his mind?  
"..Was really cold." Mikey finished. Huh. Not the sentiment Pete was going for.  
"Yeah. It was crazy too, right?" Crazy to run into each other like that. Crazy that they would end up getting on so well together.  
"Yeah," Mikey said. "Who makes s'mores in a toaster in the dead of night?" Pete had tried not to read too much into that, but again, it wasn’t the sentiment he was aiming for. Pete's brows knitted together and he stared at his lap.

Mikey drifted around the kitchen, fetching mugs, getting milk from the fridge and making two cups of coffee. He carried the two mugs to the living room and passed one to Pete. It was hot and strong and just what he needed. He took a few sips, enjoying the tingle and burn on his tongue. He looked over at Mikey who gave him a small smile. Not quite the beautiful, room-lighting smile he had given Pete last night when they had sat on the very same couch.

Pete started to feel a bit on the disheartened side, but he tried once more. "So would you want to do that again?" His tone was tentative. He didn't want to push it. What he meant was hanging out, getting to know each other better, rolling around naked together. Or better still, all of the above. 

"What? Standing on the street with no shoes on?" He scoffed and Pete felt a bit sick. "Pass!" Mikey didn't seem to be picking up on what Pete was saying at all. Or maybe he was completely getting it but just wasn't into it.

"Um." Pete needed to formulate actual words. But maybe not right now. Maybe it was better for Pete to address this at a later date when his ego could take a little more of a bruising. "So I should probably take off."  
"Oh." Mikey stayed where he was, looking a little awkward. "Sure. Yeah. Okay." 

He leaned across and pecked Pete on the cheek. It was awkward and quick but Pete's cheek felt instantly warm at the touch, and it made Pete want to stay, to kiss Mikey more than just a peck. But he'd said he was going so he decided it best to continue that train of thought. He was sure to see Mikey soon, what with them living is such close proximity to each other. He gulped down more coffee, wincing as he burned his throat, and stood up. He retreated with a vague nod and a wave feeling a bit confused. 

So now he's back in his own place, not sure what to do next. He thinks they got on really well, and they were very _compatible_ in bed, so he feels a little bit sad that this morning was so awkward. He’s hoping it was just his imagination or the fact that it was too early after a latte night. Should he cross his fingers for Mikey to come and ask him out? Should he grow some bravery and call back over to Mikey's and do the asking out? Should he wait for a chance meeting and let it all happen organically? It's too early to make such a big decision by himself. 

Surely Patrick will know. Patrick will help, he's certain of it. He retrieves his phone from where he left it beside his bed and crawls in under the covers while he's dialling the number.

"Patrick. Need your advice."  
"Hey Pete. It's kind of early." Patrick's voice is croaky from the phone line and probably because it's the first time he's spoken today. Pete wonders why that is until he looks at the clock and sees that it's far too early for him to be awake. Only then does Pete remember that Patrick had invited him for drinks and Pete had declined. Patrick isn't exactly famous for his love of early mornings at the best of times, so Pete maybe should have waited a while before waking him. But it’s too late now. "And I was out last night, remember? You didn't want to come. And it's early."

"Are you in bed Pattycakes? I'm in bed. We're almost in bed together," Pete says, ignoring Patrick’s obvious attempt to get Pete off the phone.  
"Pete!" Pete recognises Patrick's tone, and it’s definitely a warning.  
"Yeah you love me."  
"Pete, did I tell you that it's early? And that I didn't get to bed 'till late?" Patrick sounds like he's already done with Pete's shit for the day, but Pete needs his help so he pulls out his ace card he knows Patrick won't see coming.  
"Hey, Stump. You have to be nice to me. There was a fire in my building last night. I could have _died_ you know?" Patrick makes a sharp intake of breath at that news.  
"Shit. Pete. What happened? Are you ok?" Patrick sounds really concerned, all mocking dropped from his voice. Pete feels a tiny bit bad considering he's been in no danger at all really.  
"Well, maybe that's not strictly true."  
"Wait. There was no fire? It's too early for riddles."  
"There was a fire, but a small one. Some stoners set their toaster on fire. But the emergency services came and we were all evacuated so you still have to be nice to me." Pete hears Patrick sigh, crackly through the phone line.  
"Fine, Pete. I’ll be nice. What's up?"  
"I met someone." Patrick groans a little on the other end of the phone and Pete imagines he's pinching the bridge of his nose to find his patience. Pete knows they've had this conversation before - maybe more than once - when Pete met someone he thought was amazing. Whoever they were they have nothing on Mikey, though. Not even close.  
"Yeah? Can you elaborate? I'll need more details if you want my help."

Pete runs through what happened the previous night, from the fire, to Mikey's invitation for cocoa, to Mikey's invitation into his bed. He can almost see Patrick wince when he starts to tell that bit, because he never wants the details of Pete's sex life, even when they're really, really good. Probably because Pete had gone into far too much intimate detail in the past and scarred Patrick forever and ever. So without explaining the explicit details of his night in bed with Mikey, he tries to explain the level of amazing it was. 

"And we got on so well, but this morning it was sort of awkward. So now I don't know if it was just a hook up or if it was more."  
"Ok. But dude, he's your neighbour. What about the whole 'don't shit where you eat' thing?" Pete knows about that rule. He had fallen down on that before, a hook up with a colleague had left him red faced and vowing to keep it in his pants in similar situations in the future. He hadn't set out with the goal of sleeping with his neighbour, but god, Mikey was just amazing. He was worth breaking that rule for, and didn't want it to be just a quick, meaningless fuck.  
"Yeah I know. I hadn't intended on it. It just sort of happened."  
"Wait, you didn't come out with us last night, but you still wound up getting laid?" Pete can imagine Patrick is doing more eye rolling. But Patrick continues, "Do you want it to be more?"  
"Yeah I totally do, Patrick."  
"You properly like him? This isn't just morning-after rose tinted glasses?" Pete makes a face at Patrick down the phone.  
"Patrick, I want to hold his fucking hand and cuddle with him. I want to stroke his hair and be adorable with him. He's awesome. I like him."

Patrick sighs. Pete grins. He knows Patrick is on board and help him. 

"Come over to Joe's later. We can see if we can help you. Now let me sleep?"  
"Sure thing, Patrick. Enjoy your hangover."

*

The thing is, Pete never gave Mikey his number, and he never got Mikey's number either. For some reason Pete didn't think it an immediate request when he was leaving seeing how close they lived, and Mikey's slightly cooled temperament swayed him too. But it means that he can't text Mikey and he won't be getting a text from Mikey either, unless Mikey has some sort of amazing psychic skills involving the guessing of telephone numbers. Pete really wishes he had his number. It's much easier to be brave via text message, or even on a telephone call. It's a great deal more daunting to show up on Mikey's door and face possible rejection in person. He spends much of his day wishing he had just asked Mikey for his number.

Pete's Saturday is mostly mindless weekend errands like groceries, cleaning his apartment and catching up on a weeks’ worth of laundry. 

He scoops the contents of his floordrobe into his hamper, knowing that pretty much nothing on the floor will be clean enough for another wearing, not even on a day he's got low standards. He's on the lookout for Mikey when he heads down to the shared laundry room, hoping that his luck will be in, and Mikey will happen to be doing his laundry at the same time. Though maybe Mikey has more exciting things to do than washing clothes on a Saturday afternoon. He takes his time when he's there, actually bothering to separate his coloured clothes from white clothes and tells himself it's just to spare himself having a whole bunch of muddy, pink-white shirts again. It's nothing to do with wanting to linger in the laundry room in case Mikey happens to show up, nuh-huh. Often when he does his laundry, Pete will just throw stuff in the washer and head back to his apartment and come back later, but today he's decided to bring his book and sit while the washer whirls and swirls away. Again, he tells himself that's for no reason at all. 

Though deep down, he knows better.

*

Pete spends the evening in Joe's, half keeping his mind distracted, half indulging in thinking about Mikey.

He lets Joe and Patrick tell him all about their night out, the one Pete missed. It sounds like a fun night, ending in a jamming session until the wee hours of the morning. It's no wonder that Patrick was so tired and pissy when Pete called him. Pete would be sad he missed such a good night, except he was also busy have a good time.

When he's gotten all the gory details and half drunken stories he missed out on, Pete starts into the details of his night so that Patrick and Joe can help him figure out what to do. He tells him all about how great Mikey is, but Patrick still won't let him go into too much graphic detail.

"He's so gorgeous, Patrick. He's got the most amazing-"  
"Pete, no! I don't want details!"  
"I was going to say eyes, jeez."  
"You were not, and you know it!" Pete grins. Patrick knows him too well.

"So you like him?" Patrick asks.  
"Yep."  
"And you kissed him?" Joe chimes in.  
"Yep. And we slept together. Patrick, don't make that face.”  
“I don’t want to know!”  
“I wasn’t going to tell you, but I can totally tell you all the details of what I did after I got all of his clothes off! Completely naked, Patrick. Not wearing a stitch!” Patrick looks like he’s a second away from sticking his fingers in his ears and signing La La La. Pete grins gleefully, because he knows how to wind Patrick up. “We're grown-ups, Trick. Come On!" Patrick makes an aborted sound that might have been the beginnings of an objection and rolls his eyes again. His eyes must get lots of exercise with Pete around.

"Ok. So what's the problem?"  
"I like him. But I don't know if it was just sex last night or if he likes me back. He was sort of quiet this morning. Not talkative at all really. It was awkward, he was even a little bit standoffish. I'm hoping it was just too early for chit-chat."

When Pete has run through his whole story (minus the sexy bits), the advice he gets is not really the detailed plan he was looking for.

"That's your advice? Wait and see what happens? That's a really specific answer with a very thought out and exact plan of action. Patrick I thought you'd have a ground breaking, life changing plan!" Pete pretends to look disappointed and shakes his head. Patrick throws a balled up piece of paper at him. "Joe, what have you got for me?"

"It's a complex situation, full of intricacies." Joe says, sounding like he's trying to be philosophical. Pete scoffs at him.  
"Dude, no it's not. It's pretty simple."  
"Yeah it's simple. But still complex." Pete narrows his eyes, disbelieving. It appears that Joe toked up before Pete came over.  
"Yeah," Pete says, "simple but complex. Of course." He turns to Patrick, making a mental note to not pay too much attention to Joe for the next little while. Or the rest of the night. 

"Give it time." Patrick says, shrugging.

"So I have two choices," Pete says, narrowly missing another paper missile. "It's a complex but simple situation, and wait it out. Awesome." Pete doesn't feel like being patient today.

It's late by the time they've run through everything so Pete gets up off the couch, pulling on his jacket and picking up his keys. "Thanks. I'll give you all the gory details when I figure things out." Pete waggles his eyebrows and throws Patrick a dirty grin. Patrick bats his hand at Pete and then flips him off.

"Good luck, Pete." 

Pete might need it.

*

After several days of waiting, wishing and hoping, Pete is starting to lose faith. There's been neither sight nor sound of Mikey since they parted on Saturday morning and Pete knows how these things go. A weekend hook up starts going stale after a few days. If there's no contact soon after, it starts to lose its sparkle a bit. The chances of a fashionably late date request get smaller and the chances of an awkward, fruitless meeting get bigger. He knows this. But he's still hoping that they will have some sort of accidental meeting or something, because miracles can totally happen. 

Maybe he'll run into Mikey in the elevator, or at the mail boxes, or anywhere, it doesn't matter. Pete holds his breath whenever he's in the shared areas of the apartment block. When he's in the elevator, he doesn't press the button to make the doors close quicker, he leaves them to shut by themselves in the hopes that Mikey will join him in the space of those extra seconds. He lingers when picking up his mail, and hopes that maybe Mikey's mail is in with his own to give him an excuse to call over. Because, hey, it happened the other way around before, it could happen again.

He's starting to feel a bit pathetic though. He never ran into Mikey regularly, just here and there, but he's hoping that it will happen, and maybe he's hoping a bit too much. He's waited several days now. He's losing hold of the little bit of hope he has, he was also very much hoping that Mikey would be braver than he is and just come over to his apartment, it's not like he needs directions. But there's no knock on his door. The thought has crossed his mind that Mikey might actually be avoiding him, actively avoiding all the public spaces in the building for a few days but he doesn't want to think about that too much.

Pete is leaving his apartment to go get groceries when he sees Mikey coming out of the elevator. Mikey looks gorgeous and Pete's chest tightens. He's wearing tight jeans and a skinny, worn Anthrax shirt under a black leather jacket. He looks really fucking good.

This would be fine, Pete would be really pleased to see Mikey, and probably his perfect chance to summon his bravery and actually talk to him, maybe tell him what a wonderful night he had, maybe even ask him the fuck out, but what makes his heart sink is that Mikey's not alone. Mikey is deep in conversation with a tiny, heavily tattooed and utterly gorgeous man. Pete stops in his tracks and takes in the sight.

Mikey doesn't spot Pete, he's too distracted by tattoo-guy. Their heads are close together, talking animatedly, and they only part so that Mikey can jam his key in the door. They disappear inside leaving Pete in the hallway, his stomach twisting. Mikey, it seems, has moved on to someone else.

Pete goes out to get his groceries, heavily distracted by what he just saw. He forgets half of the things on his mental list and curses himself for not actually writing them down. Did he need dish soap or shower gel? Does he have any milk in his fridge? Could Mikey Way have moved on to someone else so soon? Was their night together just a stupid hook up? Is Pete an idiot for sleeping with his neighbour?

He floats distractedly around the supermarket and hopes he gets most things he needs. And junk food, lots of junk food. Ice cream can mend a broken heart. Cookies can too.

 

*

So Pete's decides to mostly, sort of, halfway forget about Mikey. He's poured enough energy into thinking about him this week that maybe it's best to stop. He doesn't want to, but maybe it's for the best. He doesn't linger in the hallways, he doesn't drag his feet getting into the elevator. It's fine, it is. It was just a bit of fun (such amazing, toe curling, breath taking fun).

The forgetting about him and moving on is going well until he runs into Mikey again the next day. Literally *runs* into him. He almost drops his bag of groceries (all of the things he had forgotten the last time he went grocery shopping), and front door keys as he rounds the corner and smacks right into Mikey's chest almost knocking himself over. 

"Hey," Pete says. And shit, he's not sure if this is going to be awkward of not. He knows he could flip a coin and it could go either way. He glances behind Mikey and sees the tattooed guy standing behind him. And then Pete knows it's going to be awkward.

"Hey," Mikey replies. Tattoo guy shuffles in the behind Mikey and Pete wants to run away.  
"You look great." Shut up, Wentz. Shut up. But Mikey smiles so maybe it's not as cringey as Pete feels it is.  
"You too." Pete fucking _knows_ that Mikey is being polite because Pete looks like garbage. He's got grubby jeans on and an old hoody, and his hair is sticking out at eleven different angles under a baseball cap.  
"Haven't seen you since-" since you fucked my brains out, Pete wants to say. "-since the weekend."  
"Yeah," Mikey says, pointing behind him to the tattooed guy. "He's been keeping me busy." Pete might vomit at the thoughts of what he tattooed guy might have been doing with Mikey to keep him so busy. Pete has a dirty mind at the best of times, and it’s really not helping him today.  
"Busy week." Pete repeats slowly. "Me too. So busy." He shuffles a bit and barely takes a breath before he speaks again. "Did you hear anything about the guys who started the fire? The guy from downstairs said they're having to move out. The owner of that apartment freaked out about nearly burning down the building. Insurance or something. The guys are just leasing it so they’re getting kicked out. And I heard they're both sleeping on the sofa of the girls who live across from me. Sure, 'on the sofa'!" Pete makes air quotes, nearly dropping his keys in the process. "Like I believe that one." 

Pete scoffs, and Mikey looks like he's about to say something. But Pete can't help himself and keeps babbling.

"That sweet lady from downstairs said that the woman who has the two little yappy dogs, you know who I mean right? Well apparently one of the fire fighters asked her out on a Friday night. Crazy, huh?"

Pete can't stop talking, it's panic and verbal diarrhoea all rolled into one. Mikey just stands there, looking cool as anything, and looking like he might say something but Pete never really gives him the chance. When Pete finally shuts his big fucking mouth which has obviously taken on a life of its own, he has to take a deep breath and mentally button his lips shut.

There's a few seconds where they just stare at each other and Pete can think of at least fifty more things to say, most of which involve wanting to see Mikey again. None of them come out. He can't say them with the tattooed guy standing right there, he’s far too self-conscious, and there’s a huge chance that this guy is Mikey’s new lover. So there’s just silence, and it’s thick enough to fill the hallway. 

Tattoo guy clears his throat and Mikey startles. Pete looks between the two of them and Mikey looks like he's about to open his mouth to say something again. Mikey is probably going to say he has to go, so Pete takes that as his cue to leave instead. 

"See you," Pete mumbles. He doesn't give Mikey enough time to respond before he's heading down the hallway towards his apartment, his pulse thumping in his ears. He holds his breath until he's got his back pressed against the inside of his closed apartment door and only moves when his heart rate is steady again.

He calls Patrick and tells him what he saw. Patrick is sympathetic to Pete's woes.

"Paaaatrick. I'm sad."  
"I know. And it's shit. But plenty more fish, right?"  
"Fish can go fuck themselves," Pete says sullenly.  
"Maybe it's his friend? Brother? Cousin? Could it be that you've got it wrong?"  
"Maybe. But he didn't call, so I'm still sad."  
"You didn't ask him out either, Pete. It's not like you lost his address." Pete considers and he knows that Patrick is right but he's in a mood now so he's not sure he cares.

Patrick is usually good at consoling Pete, he's well used to him pining and flying off the handle. He's a qualified Pete-tamer. So Pete expected him to say those things.

Andy will give it to Pete straight though, he'll be honest with him. So Pete calls him next. He knows what's coming, knows Andy well enough to be able to guess what he's going to say. 

"Maybe call it a day. Maybe move on? You had a good time, right? You've spoken since then and it's on good terms so you haven't made a neighbourly relationship into a really shitty one. No harm done."

Pete makes a face, scrunching up his nose. Yeah, he kind of figured that would be the answer. He doesn't like that answer though.

*

Thursday night comes around and Pete's in a mood. Not the worst mood he’s ever been in, but he's still not pleased with the world. When he gets home, he strips and throws himself into the shower - with almost too-hot water - and scrubs himself, hoping that if he takes off a layer of skin, a layer of his mood will go with it. When he gets out, he knots a towel around his waist and checks himself in the mirror. He admires the yellowing mouth-shaped marks on the base of his neck and on his collarbone just below his tattooed thorns, poking at them. They've faded since Mikey had made the line of red-blue circular bruises, and they no longer hurt when he sticks his fingers in them. If they had been any higher, the marks would have been visible to anyone who saw his neck, but he knows it's also cold enough out to wear a scarf and not look crazy so maybe he could have gotten away with it. He wonders if the ones he left on Mikey's chest are still visible, or if they too have faded to nearly nothing. He stares at the marks until the skin around them gets goosebumps from the cold air in his bathroom, and then heads into his bedroom to get dressed.

While he dries himself off, he starts to plan out his weekend. Andy has invited him to a party on Saturday so Pete makes up his mind to go, rather than making up a lame excuse to duck out of it like he was planning to. It will do him good to get out, he's spent the week moping and it's getting boring now. He knows there's a hot straight edge guy going who he thinks might be interested in him, maybe he can go the old route of 'best way to get over someone, is to get under someone else'. Maybe.

Pete pulls on his comfiest sweat pants, warm cotton ones, worn soft from a hundred trips through the laundry. He riffles through the pile of clothes on the back of his chair to find a T-shirt and pulls it on. It's a chilly evening so he knows he needs another layer, and a hoody would probably be best. He digs into the pile again, and instead of finding one of his own, he finds the one he borrowed from Mikey. He frowns at the stupid piece of clothing that's suddenly ruining his day, and decides to call Patrick to rant about it.

"Give it back to him, Pete. Clean slate. Go be the bigger person."  
"Being the bigger person sucks ass." He bites his lip and thinks. "I should give it back. Fuck it. I should go now before I change my mind." 

He feels resolute. Once it’s done it’s done for good. 

"Do it. And afterwards call me and we go plaster the pieces of your broken heart together with ice cream."  
"Jesus, Patrick. I thought I was dramatic. But ok. Promise?"  
"Sure thing."

*

Pete knocks on the door and begins to slowly count to ten in his head. If he's counting, then he can't change his mind and just leave the hoody on the floor outside and run. This is good, he needs to do this. He needs to just give the fucking hoody back and then he can go about the rest of his life and stop pining over a man he only spent one night with.

The door opens while Pete's counting in his head, looking at his shoes. He looks up and Mikey's lips twitch. Pete wants to smile, despite himself. Mikey speaks first.

"Hey."  
"Hey yourself." Pete takes in his view of Mikey, while trying not to check him out. Because he's just here to just give a stupid hoody back, goddamn it. But Mikey looks good, really really good, and Pete curses his suddenly frantic hormones. Why does he always look so good? Mikey opens the door wider, which could be a gesture to come in, but Pete doesn't move.

"Wanna come in?" Pete shouldn't go in. He knows that will just prolong all of this. Best to get it done quickly, like pulling off a bandaid.  
"I just wanted to give you your hoody back." Mikey looks like he's considering what Pete said. And maybe Pete imagines it, but is Mikey checking him out?  
"Want to give it back inside?"  
"Okay." Pete has no resolve. Maybe it's something he should learn some day.

Once inside, Pete surveys the room. The heavily tattooed guy that Pete saw in the hallway is on the sofa with his legs tucked under him. He looks comfortable and at ease, and Pete feels exactly the opposite. He feels awkward and like he wants to get the fuck out of there. The tattooed guy is pretty good looking, with dark, messy hair, dark eyes and a lip piercing. Pete can't understand why Mikey would invite him inside when he quite clearly has company. 

"This is Frank, Pete. Pete, this is Frank." Frank gives a little wave and Pete just nods. This is awful. He needs to leave. 

“Nice to finally meet you properly, Pete.” Frank says with a grin. Pete tries hard to keep his face neutral but he knows he must look confused as fuck because that’s how he feels. Why would Mikey be telling Frank about him if Frank was Mikey’s new hook-up?  
"Frank is my dear friend who is just leaving." Mikey says and throws Frank the filthiest of looks. Oh, Pete thinks. Friend is different to what he had been assuming.  
"Oh, was I?" Frank asks, sounding horribly offended but with a grin on his face. Mikey throws him a look that could be a warning if Pete is reading it right.  
"Yes. Frank. You're very busy. Don't want to keep you." Mikey speaks through almost gritted teeth and his face is thunderous, directed at Frank, and only then does Frank move to get off the sofa.  
"Okay, okay. I know when I'm getting kicked out." He grins again at Mikey and heads for the door. Before he pulls it behind him his grin gets wider and he says, "Have fun, guys."

Pete's relieved that Frank has gone, and amused that Mikey made him leave. Maybe Pete had this wrong all along, but he's still not fully convinced. He's still gripping the balled up hoody in both hands and he thrusts it at Mikey like it's a bomb he wants to get rid of. 

"Do you want to stay for a bit? I can make cocoa?" Mikey asks. Pete wants to stay but the whole Frank thing has made him uncomfortable. Mikey said they were friends though, so maybe it's ok.  
"Sure. Hot cocoa?" Pete smiles a little at his obvious attempt to be humorous, and Mikey's eyebrow twitches. Jesus, why does Mikey need to make such subtle facial expressions, it's seriously fucking with Pete's ability to function. Mikey takes the hoody from him and leaves it on the back of a nearby armchair before heading in the direction of the kitchen. Pete sits on the edge of the sofa, on the side where Frank had just been sitting. He’s not sure if he should ask about Frank, but he feels like he needs to clarify. He's starting to feel silly about thinking Mikey was hooking up with a stream of tattooed boys. "Frank is your friend?"  
"Yeah. Frank is great. Known him for years."  
"But he's just your friend?" He emphasises the 'just' a little too much and knows he's about as subtle as a rhinoceros running through the living room. He hopes he doesn't sound jealous, even though he is.  
Mikey looks confused. "Yep," he says and a flash of realisation runs across his face. "Oh. You thought? No. God no. Me and Frankie? Never." Pete is relieved. The tension falls out of his shoulders and he relaxes.

Mikey returns sits down beside Pete with the two mugs, and this feels familiar. Pete takes the mug and takes a single sip. It's late, he's shit at sleeping and the warm milk might help him, but it's more for the ritual and the excuse for him to sit with Mikey. He takes another small sip and places his mug on the table beside him. Mikey does the same. There's nothing between them now.

"I just thought. I never heard from you. And then I saw you guys together in the hallway- Good." Pete feels silly and shy all of a sudden.  
"Just a friend," he says. "I didn't hear from you either, you know. And you sort of ran away."  
"I know. But you were a little quiet the morning after. I thought I might be getting the brush off, I didn't want to push it." Mikey inches closer to Pete and brushes a strand of hair from Pete's forehead.  
"The thing is, Pete, I don't function too well in the mornings until I've had at least two cups of coffee. I just wasn't awake yet." Pete grins at that, even more relieved than before.  
"See, that's the sort of thing you should warn a guy about."  
"What, like 'want to stay over but don't talk to me tomorrow until you see me drinking a gallon of coffee?'"  
"Something like that, yeah. Maybe get it printed on a shirt?"  
“So we are both very silly.”  
“We are.” Pete leans closer and then they're both just smiling goofy smiles at each other for a moment.

"I'm pretty glad you came back over, you know."  
"I had to give you back your hoody," Pete says, but he knows that's not what Mikey means. "I'm glad I could use it as an excuse to come back to see you."  
"Me too. I was beginning to think I'd have to set fire to my apartment so that I could run into you again." Mikey almost keeps a straight face when he says that, and Pete can't help but laugh hard, because it's not as if he'd never had that thought himself.  
"I thought about putting my mail in your slot." Pete realises only after the words have left his mouth, how that sentence could be taken as suggestive, especially when Mikey raises an eyebrow.  
"Oh really?"  
"Pun not intended. Sort of." Mikey laughs and Pete takes this as his opportunity to kiss him.

They've kissed before but this one is no less amazing. It's a gentle kiss and Mikey's mouth is pliable and moves softly against Pete's. He licks against his lips slowly, he's forgotten all the details he learned about Mikey's mouth from the first time they kissed and he wants to take them in all over again. There's a soft swipe of tongue and nip of teeth and Pete just wants to enjoy every second of it. Mikey pulls him closer with his hand fisted in Pete's hoody, until their chests are pressed together. Pete slides his hand up Mikey’s body and fists it into his hair, feeling how soft it is between his fingers.

Pete knows he could probably slide himself over Mikey quite easily and step up their making out. From how Mikey is kissing him, it could probably easily end in Pete spending the night in Mikey's bed again. He's not opposed to that at all, but after a week of waiting, he knows waiting a little bit longer probably won't kill him. He pulls away, stares at Mikey's kiss swollen lips and smiles. His fingers find Mikey's and he squeezes them in his.

"So, I'm kind of sappy and romantic, but can we go on a date before we do any of this again?"  
"Okay," Mikey says slowly. "What were you thinking of?"  
"Doesn't have to be fancy. Maybe come over to my place. Pizza and a movie?"  
"Sounds like a date to me." Mikey quirks his lip in that way that Pete is starting to really love. "Tomorrow?"  
"Tomorrow sound great." His eyes skim down Mikey's body which is so close to his and he has a beautiful flash of memory of what's under Mikey's shirt, jeans, underwear. "I'm going to go now, though. Before I realise that having a date first was a terrible, terrible idea."

Mikey kisses Pete again and Pete leans into it, letting himself get filled up with the feeling of Mikey's lips on his. He has to tear himself away to break the kiss. It's tough but he manages it, and he knows it will be all the sweeter if they wait until their date for anything more.

"See you tomorrow, Pete."

*

Pete spends the day on edge, flitting between nervous and excited. He has a date, an actual date. He's texted Patrick probably close to a hundred times telling him so, and Pete's surprised Patrick hasn't turned his phone off yet, or thrown it at him when he meets him for a coffee. But Pete’s gushing about his date and about kissing Mikey seems to be more pleasant for Patrick to hear about than Pete's previous whining about not dating Mikey and not kissing Mikey, so it's not so bad.

Pete cleans his apartment as best he can in the hour between when he gets home and when Mikey's due to call over. Mostly he just changes his bed sheets, clears the mess of clothes on his bedroom floor into his hamper and his wardrobe and does a very quick general tidy up. It almost passes for an apartment that gets cleaned regularly. Pete also lights himself a vanilla scented candle because it smells amazing and it's romantic. Or something.

The date itself is fantastic.

The pizza is delicious, from one of Pete's favourite take out places, delivered promptly by his least favourite delivery guy who Pete tips generously anyway with a smile, because he’s in such a good mood. The movie is terrible, a zombie movie picked by Pete. He can't remember who recommended it to him but they were obviously a big fat liar if they thought it was decent. It's one where the bloody special effects are less than special, and more sausages and red paint and the acting is god-awful. The company is amazing and Pete divides his time between grinning like an idiot and stealing glances at Mikey when he thinks he's not looking. They talk easily, between mouthfuls of pizza, and do a running commentary on how shitty the zombies are.

When the credits roll on the movie, they sit in silence for a few minutes. For the duration of the movie they had been inching closer together and now their legs and shoulders are touching. 

"So that was terrible." Pete says and his fingers twitch, thinking about moving them to few inches to grip them around Mikey's hand. Or his thigh.  
"Yeah," Mikey replies. "I'm picking the next one. Even for a bad zombie movie it was really, really terrible." Pete's heart sings at the thought that there will be a next one. His poor choice of movie hasn't ruined everything.  
"Some of the zombies were still badass though, right?"  
"I reckon I could take them," Mikey says with the arch of an eyebrow.  
"Oh, you do?" Pete is suddenly amused. He moves closer to Mikey, turning his body so that his upper half is fully facing Mikey now like it's a challenge.  
"Yeah, I could totally be a zombie hunter," Mikey smirks.  
"I bet I could, too."  
"Nah, you're too little. You can be a zombie though," Mikey teases.  
"Hey!" Pete narrows his eyes playfully and tries to sound offended, but he's beginning to smile so it's hard to keep the amusement out of his voice.  
"It's true."

"Good things come in small packages, Mikeyway," Pete says, before launching himself at Mikey to prove just how much he could totally kick ass as a zombie killer. Mikey dodges Pete's attack and attempts to hold him back. He laughs and grabs both of Pete's hands, and Pete tries to push Mikey backwards. Pete leans his weight against him and scrambles to get his feet on to the sofa for extra leverage. They spend several minutes wrestling and struggling to hold each other down until Pete finally manages to get Mikey onto his back, but only because Mikey gives in a little. He's laughing too hard. Pete leans over him, knee wedged between Mikey's thighs and Mikey's hands pinned to the sofa cushion.

"Mmmm. Human flesh," he says with a grin, before baring his teeth dramatically and sinking them into Mikey's shoulder. Mikey laughs and wriggles, and then stills against Pete's hold. He arches into it and Pete bites the muscle a little harder. When Pete pulls his mouth away and moves back up, Mikey's face is flushed. Pete just stares at Mikey for a second, thinks he should definitely make a move now. He’s just bitten him so a kiss is surely the next step, and Mikey uses Pete’s hesitation to his advantage. He pushes Pete off him and follows after him. He switches their hands so that he's got a grip of Pete's wrists and pushes back so that Pete is once again sitting upright. Mikey throws his leg over Pete's and ends up straddling him. 

"I win, Zombie Pete," he says. And Pete is more than happy to lose a game of zombie wars if this - if Mikey - is his consolation prize.  
"You win," Pete says slowly as Mikey ducks his head down for a kiss. 

Mikey's lips press to Pete's, and Pete's mouth opens instantly to him letting their tongues slide together. Pete's hands are still pinned to the back of the sofa but Mikey releases his grip and their fingers twine together. Pete lets himself get lost in the kiss, forgetting everything but Mikey's tongue, his lips, his fingers, his budding hard-on that's pressing into Pete's hip.

Mikey is the taller of the two of them, but he fits into Pete's lap perfectly. Pete's back is firmly against the sofa and there's a cushion under his ass, Mikey's on his knees, straddling Pete with his thighs tight against Pete's body. They're snugly fit together. The weight of Mikey pressing against him and holding him down is delicious and Pete is sure he could continue this slow-burning, teasing make-out forever.

Mikey slides his hands up under Pete's shirt and takes it with him when they continue up, brushing over Pete's ribs and chest as he pulls. When the shirt gets stuck, it makes them both laugh as Pete wiggles out of it. The smile is quickly wiped off Pete's face when Mikey tilts his chin up with a finger and catches him in another kiss, slow and so dirty. Pete tries to cover as much of Mikey's body as he can with his fingertips when he's pulling off his shirt, stopping to thumb over Mikey's nipples until they harden and Pete can feel Mikey's breathing hitch.

The skin to skin contact of Mikey's entire torso against Pete's, and Mikey's hands all the fuck over him make his skin buzz, like there's a gentle hum just underneath the top layer. He needs more though, so he presses his fingers to Mikey's belly, just where skin meets denim and Mikey smiles against Pete's mouth.

"Been thinking about this all week," Mikey breaths as his mouth moves from Pete's lips to his collarbone. He sucks and bits at the area where the previous love bites have almost disappeared. "You need new ones," he says, sinking teeth into tendons and muscle. Pete leans his head away to give Mikey access and savours the sweet, sharp feeling of the new bruises being formed. He arches against it and tries desperately to multitask; to savour what Mikey is doing, but also to get Mikey's belt and pants undone so he can get his hand in there, or better yet, get them off. He fumbles for a minute, completely distracted by how Mikey's teeth feel scraping on his skin.

"Fuck. No." Pete is suddenly frustrated.  
"No?" Mikey sounds alarmed and pulls away.  
"Too many clothes. Just-" he starts pulling at the sides of Mikey's pants, wrenching them down. "Naked. Need just-" 

Mikey gets it. He grins and climbs off Pete, lying on his back on the sofa to get his jeans and underwear off. He lifts his hips and pulls them off and when Pete's are off too, he crawls over Mikey, weight on one arm and their body's pressed from chest to groin. The first kiss with both of them completely naked feels utterly amazing, their cocks slide together, and Pete moans at all of the new contact with warm, damp skin.

They kiss like that for what feels like hours and hours, just touching and rutting against each other. Every roll of Mikey's hips against his is pure bliss and Pete just wants more. Pete snakes his hand between their bodies and coils it around Mikey's dick, stroking him in slow, even motions. Mikey makes little breathy whimpers on every downstroke and Pete steps it up. He licks down Mikey's jaw, nips his way down his neck and then sinks his teeth into the spot on Mikey's shoulder he bit when he was playing a zombie. Mikey groans and bucks up against Pete and it’s beautiful.

Pete sinks his teeth in again and alternates between biting and sucking, knowing a mighty bruise is forming underneath his mouth. His hand continues to work and Mikey falls apart. There's a constant rumble of moaning, keening and whining until Pete feels him pulse over his fingers with a start and a jerk of his hips, narrowly missing the canvas cushions beside them.

"Fuck,” Mikey pants. “Thought I was going to come all over your sofa."  
"Couldn't give a shit about my sofa. Come here." 

Pete tips Mikey's chin up and kisses him hard, stroking their tongues together and sending shivers down his own spine. The kissing lasts until Mikey's breathing is a little steadier and Pete's is not remotely steady, and then Mikey pushes Pete off of him and flat onto his back. He crawls on top to kiss Pete, holding him down. He kisses his way down Pete's chest and settles between his knees. When Pete feels hot breath and scratchy stubble against his inner thigh, his legs fall open and he's sinking into the sofa cushions. 

Mikey's fingers wrap around Pete's dick and hallelujah! Pete's eyes close and he fits his palms to Mikey's skull, softly combing through his hair, just wanting contact with any bit of Mikey he can reach. Mikey strokes Pete carefully, slowly down the shaft and back up again, and he's already solid in Mikey's grip. Mikey circles his thumb around the tip and runs a finger along the underside. Pete groans.

"You like this? Right here?" He rubs his finger along the underside again and Pete huffs a vague, breathy sound in agreement.

"Right here?" Mikey asks.  
"Mmmmm," is all Pete can get out and he hopes that counts as a yes.  
"This spot?" Mikey licks his thumb and presses again with slightly more pressure. And Mikey is fucking *smirking*, the fucker.  
"Yeah," Pete chokes out.  
"This bit right here?" Mikey licks around the head and then concentrates on the sensitive spot again, softly lapping his tongue against it. Pete bites down on his own lip, he's probably going have chewed right through it by the time he comes.  
"God yeah." Now Pete knows Mikey is teasing. There's a smile in Mikey's tone that he knows is teasing, but it's the best sort of teasing.  
"This spot?" Mikey asks again, and rubs his thumb around the head, collecting precome and smearing it around before rubbing at the hyper-sensitive spot again and again.  
"Fuck."  
"Are you sure?" He says again. Pete just arches into it, clawing at the sofa underneath him.  
"I'm-" Pete doesn't finish the sentence because Mikey closes his mouth over the tip and sucks hard with his tongue flat against the underside. Mikey's mouth is wet heat, and his fingers are circled tight around Pete's dick, working rhythmically and in time with his mouth.  
"Not gonna last, Mikes," Pete breaths. And while Pete wishes he could make it last as long as possible, to savour it, it's true. Mikey's tongue is sinful, skilful, and he hums in response to Pete and it vibrates right through Pete's whole body making him whimper and writhe. Mikey sucks harder and continues to work his fingers on Pete's shaft. He presses against the back of Pete's balls with a knuckle and it's game over. 

Pete tugs on Mikey's hair and bats him on the shoulder to give him warning, it's just good manners. But Mikey stays put, sucking hard and tight until Pete groans and bucks, white stars exploding behind his closed eyes as Mikey swallows around him. Pete's orgasm rolls over him and leaves him wrecked, lightheaded, and with ragged breathing.

"Fuck fuck fuck. Mikey. Fuck. You're a complete fucking tease, but I like it," Pete grins dreamily and feels like he might be melting into the cushions. Mikey shuffles up and leans over him. He's grinning too as he kisses Pete and then settles to rest his head on Pete's chest.

They stay like that, squashed together on the sofa, Pete stroking Mikey's hair and Mikey's hand curled around Pete's waist, until Pete starts to feel a chill creeping over them. He nudges Mikey as a signal to get up and leads him to his bedroom, though it's not as easy as it usually would be to walk just twenty-something feet, because Pete feels like his orgasm dissolved his spine. He pulls Mikey by the hand and guides him into his bed, and then under his cosy comforter to continue their cuddle-fest. Pete loses track of time between sweet little kisses and cuddling together, and he drifts off to sleep somewhere after he lines himself up behind Mikey as the big spoon to Mikey's little spoon. 

Pete wakes twice during the night, but that's not unusual for him; he often wakes when he's in bed by himself. This time instead of ending up pacing his apartment or mindlessly surfing the internet until he falls back asleep, he just buries his face into Mikey's back, wraps his arm around Mikey tighter, and falls asleep again.

When Pete wakes the next time, the room is pretty bright, so he knows that it's morning even before he moves. The mattress shifts with the weight of a person behind him and it's Mikey climbing back onto the bed. He beams at Pete and places two mugs of coffee on the nightstand.

"Thought for a second that you'd made a run for it," Pete admits. Mikey settles himself on the bed and kisses Pete, a warm kiss that makes Pete wonder if he's still sleeping, still dreaming. "Morning," he murmurs against Mikey's lips.  
"Morning. No I only ran to make coffee." Pete sits up in bed with the sheets bunched around his waist. He’s still naked, too lazy and comfortable to put on clothes before he slept. Mikey pulled on his jeans to make coffee, though Pete notices the top button is still open. "Had to figure out your coffee pot."  
"This is starting to be a thing isn't it?" Pete grins. "You making me hot beverages?" Pete asks as he eyes the mug on the nightstand, and the other now in Mikey's hand.  
"Oh, that's not for you, that's one of my two morning coffees," Mikey smirks. Pete tries to pout but it's hard when his face wants to split into a huge grin.  
"Okay. Don't pout,” he says and leans over to place a small kiss on Pete’s lips, cementing Pete’s smile. “One really is for you. I had one already, while you were still asleep. I needed two."  
"Two so you can function," Pete says, smiling. Mikey puts his mug down and slides over beside Pete.  
"Two so I can function. So I don't scare you off again."  
"Nah, I'm a badass zombie, Mikey. I'm hard to scare." Then he thinks and smiles again. “Even though I maybe, sort of, got a little bit scared off the last time. But just a little bit.” He demonstrates how little the bit was by showing Mikey his thumb and pointer finger, an inch apart. Mikey grins back at him.

They spend the morning in bed and time passes far too quickly for Pete’s liking. Eventually coffee and leftover pizza are not enough to sustain them and they have to get dressed and leave for the outside world in search of food. Pete hates that they have to move at all, and vows to make sure he has enough supplies to barricade themselves in the next time. There will be no leaving the bedroom required, unless it’s to make a blanket fort and set up camp there instead. But the fact that Mikey has to borrow clean clothes from him makes up for it in a small way. He looks super cute in Pete’s Joy Division shirt. 

When they leave Pete’s apartment, Mikey joins their hands and Pete wants to squeal, but just about manages to resist. His face will be sore tomorrow from all the smiling though. They pass the two college guys who started the fire the previous week, and it seems that the gossip mill of the building is actually correct for once, as it appears that they are indeed staying with the girls across the hall from Pete. Pete flashes them a wide grin, seeing as they are inadvertently responsible for Pete feeling so goddamn good today.

They pick a nearby coffee shop to eat in and order coffees. Mikey orders a pastry and Pete chooses an enormous muffin that could probably feed a family of four. Pete reluctantly lets go of Mikey’s hand, and only so the he can eat. Their conversation is easy, just like the night before. Any of the shyness or awkwardness from their first morning-after is long gone and Pete couldn’t be more pleased. He’s fairly sure that they are in the running for the most sickening pair in the coffee shop, especially as Pete hand feeds a piece of muffin to Mikey. Sickening.

“So last night was –“ Mikey begins. Pete knows last night was amazing, and he’s pretty damn sure this time that Miley feels the same. But he has mischief on his mind now because he’s in such a good mood.  
“Weird, right?” Pete finishes. “Who recommends such a terrible zombie movie to their friend for a date?” That’s definitely not the sentiment that Mikey was aiming for, but Pete wants to play. The glint in Mikey’s eyes means that he knows Pete is playing, too.  
“Would you want to maybe do that again?” Mikey asks, this time with a smile.  
“What, watch that awful movie again? Pfft. Pass.” Pete tries to sound serious, to keep the joy out of his voice. But it’s impossible.  
“Asshole.” Mikey says, but now he’s laughing. Pete just grins.

After their coffee and disgustingly adorable public displays of affection, they wander back to the apartment block. It’s cold out so they share a pair of gloves, one each and holding hands in the middle.

When they reach Mikey’s apartment, Mikey kisses Pete against the door frame, even though it’s broad daylight and they’ve spent most of the day kissing already. 

This is where they part, but this time Pete is not leaving until he lets Mikey know how much he wants to see him again. He wants to secure a further date. He’s not letting Mikey be the one that got away, two weeks in a row.

“So are you going to take me out again, Mikeyway? Another date?” Mikey chews his lip, like it needs serious thought, but there’s that delicious twitch of his eyebrow again.  
“I might,” Mikey says, pulling Pete tight against him. “Want to stick around and find out?” Pete laughs.  
“Yes, I wanna find out.”

 

END


End file.
